((Andy Silverman continued from Dead Bxdies in the Lake))

Great. More fucking birds.

Andy and Axel hadn't talked much since leaving the lake behind. Andy had tried starting conversation, but every time he did, his throat closed up when he thought of just what there was to talk about. The only silver lining was the Tentabox, which needed a better name, but which was definitely Andy's favorite part of this whole clusterfuck so far. Apparently it'd been holding a knife when Axel first woke up, which would have been hilarious in any other situation. Whatever those terrorists were smoking, Andy needed some.

Anyway.

It seemed like they were going up in elevation somewhat as they wandered around the jungle. The three structures they'd just stumbled upon were the first buildings they'd seen. Maybe calling them "buildings" was being generous - at any rate, they were the first signs of people having been here before them.

They looked, in Andy's scientific opinion, old as shit. He was just not going to think about who the people that had built them might be or where they were now.

"So, uh." His voice was hoarse when he broke the silence as they loitered outside the torn-up bird enclosure. Water would be good, but he was kind of occupied with hugging the Tentabox to his chest. Didn't want to set it down and have it think it'd been abandoned by its surrogate dad after its original dad had kicked it into a tree.

(Yeah, okay, he was still freaking the fuck out, but lowkey now. It was good. It was all good.)

Andy cleared his throat and tried again. "You wanna take a break?" He asked unnecessarily, since they'd already stopped for the time being.

"Yeah," Axel said, except it came out more like "yuh" because it took less effort. If he was Andy he probably wouldn't be so quick to chill in enemy territory, that bird he fought probably had a family and shit, but he wasn't about to complain. His feet were killing him and he had like twelve mosquito bites and he prayed for death but in like the semi-ironic, "I said some stupid shit to a girl and I can never face the sun again" sort of way. Not the serious sort of way, because apparently that was a fucking distinction he had to make now.

>> Axel Fontaine continued from Dead Bxdies in the Lake

This wasn't his sort of thing. Well, no shit, but in a more granular sorta way, this particular thing, hiking through a jungle full of probably snakes even though he hadn't seen any snakes. He had seen a very pissed-off monkey, he didn't know what type but it looked like a mean motherfucker, and actually he wasn't sure if it was pissed off or not or maybe that's just what its face looked like. Either way he was pretty sure he read a thing about monkeys ripping people's faces off and he wanted no part in that shit.

They were pretty clearly in bird territory now, considering the honestly mind-boggling amount of bird shit in the building they'd wound up parking near. Nothing had come flying at Andy's head squawking for vengeance yet, so that was the most minor silver lining in the history of clouds.

If he kept thinking about stupid bullshit he might stop freaking out. He was being pretty quiet about the freaking out, let a couple of tears fall when Andy wasn't looking, but it was cool now, kind of. Cool enough that he hadn't screamed or broken anything, though both sounded pretty fucking good right now.

He dropped his bag and then himself, sitting on a relatively clean patch of ground (well, it was dirty, because it was literally dirt, but whatever) with an exhausted sigh and digging a water bottle out of his bag. He'd been parched this whole time but it had felt kinda like he wasn't allowed to do anything on the journey from there to here other than stare into the void and try to turn his brain off.

He motioned to Andy to sit. Dude was clinging onto his former tentabro like it was a fucking companion cube. Kinda saw the appeal except the only thing he had to do that with was a teddy bear that he couldn't look at without bursting into tears. He pulled something less depressing out of his bag instead.

"Doritos?"

Andy followed Axel's lead and sat, patting the Tentabox and then setting it aside so that he could arrange his bags. Nothing really important in the smaller one that he could think of right now, though there was a fresh shirt that'd probably be pretty tempting in a little while because he was sweating like a motherfucker already.

"Sure thing, just let me get a drink." It was fine, it was cool, it was normal. Two bros sitting in the dirt, two feet apart because they both might have a hysterical breakdown at any second but only one of them is gay.

In his rummaging for a water bottle, it finally occurred to Andy that there was something else kinda important in the bigger bag, mostly when his hand bumped into it. Also when he saw the piece of paper that 1) had his full name on it, seriously, fuck these guys, and 2) read "FIRE ANTS" in perfectly clear script.

"Ah fuck-!" Andy did the first logical thing that came to mind, which was to grab his bag and upend the contents onto the ground. He'd stuck his hand into plenty of things that unexpectedly contained biting or stinging bugs before, living in the south, and he wasn't real keen on adding another tally to that list.

So, the good news: the ants were in a terrarium, and the lid was still firmly attached. The bad news was, from what Andy knew of ants, they still looked pretty pissed. Also, now he looked like a spastic jackass for just dumping all his stuff out for no apparent reason, but that was nothing new.

"Uh." Andy looked from the terrarium to Axel and then back. "I got ants."

Man, he hadn't prepared Tentabox for the emotional upheaval of 1000 new angry siblings.

"Fuck, dude, you sure do."

Axel just kinda watched Andy do his little spastic jackass freakout dance because what the fuck else was he supposed to do about it, and then there were ants. Fire ants, actually. Which gave Axel immediate and totally inconsequential war flashbacks to being like six and being pushed into a colony of fire ants by his shitty foster brother who he hadn't actually thought about in years and yeah, he could see how that kinda thing counted as a weapon. Fire ants were evil fucks who enjoyed the suffering of children. Wasn't like he could talk shit when his own weapon was a flailing hentai nightmare.

Speaking of—well, not speaking of tentabro, since it was busy with its new dad and Axel was cool with giving Andy full custody—he figured maybe he should take a better look at his actual weapon. He took the knife out of his pocket for the first time since leaving the lake, flicking it open. It... wasn't that shitty, giving it a closer look. Like it looked perfectly sturdy, like you could use it for whatever boy scouts used pocket knives for, probably fighting squirrels or something. Nothing to measure with but like a three-inch blade, maybe three and a half. He tested the edges and the point with his finger and wasn't super surprised to find it was pretty sharp. Wasn't anything fancy, but you could probably stab someone with it. If you really wanted to do that, for some reason.

"This is so fucked," he mumbled. He flipped it closed and put it back in his pocket.

"Just, like, sit down for a minute and eat your fuckin' Doritos."

"I'm already sitting down, shut the fuck up."

Andy took a deep breath and haphazardly gathered up everything he'd dumped out except the terrarium and a water bottle, and shoved it all back into his back. He grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and downed several gulps of water until his heart rate had slowed just a bit. With that taken care of, he snatched up the Doritos.

"So I was thinking," he said in between opening and eating the chips, "this guy needs a name." He indicated Tentabox with a nod of his head. That was like, barely what he'd been thinking at any point really, but it was probably the best thing he could think about right now, maybe?

"Also these." He indicated the ants. "I'm going to say... half of them are Trent Junior, and half are David Junior. And that's Minithulhu." There, good. Look at him, fucking father of the year. Somebody get him a novelty mug and a hat.

Axel dug one of his own water bottles out of his bag. God lukewarm water tasted like ass. He was so thirsty it only kinda mattered. Lukewarm Coke was probably also gonna taste like ass, so it wasn't like he was swimming in options. He took off his glove and shoved it in his pocket before taking a handful of Doritos cause his glove was gross from touching the ground and he was gonna try to minimize how much dirt ended up in his mouth even though that was probably a losing battle.

Course dad-of-the-year over here was already naming the kids. Minithulu was pretty good. Like Axel just would have named it Vel'Koz and been done with it but Andy wasn't as big of a fucking nerd as he was, so. He could fuck with Minithulu. The ants, though, he was gonna take issue with.

"Y'know they're, like, girl ants, right? Like most ants are girls. I think." He was pretty sure he was right on this even though it was super possible he was a dumbass and was actually thinking of bees or wolves or something. "Dunno if I get a vote since I'm like the shitty stepdad here but like, uh..." Gotta stay on theme. He looked down and was wearing the fucking t-shirt of a fucking band with a fucking female singer and it still took him like ten seconds to connect the dots. "Stevie Junior?"

Wait if he was the stepdad that meant—

Andy chewed and swallowed his mouthful of Doritos with a look of consternation on his face, but he didn't respond with his mouth full, because life as he knew it might have been out the window but that didn't mean he was a fucking caveman.

"Okay, half of them can be Stevie, but the other half are Trent and David." Andy was an equal-opportunity ant dad. Also he was pretty sure that Bowie at least would have gotten a kick out of the tribute, and if Andy couldn't rely on the heavenly and space-ly spirit of David Bowie for help, then who the fuck could he rely on.

Well, Axel, he guessed, since apparently they were married now.

He wanted to make a joke about that, but joking about being married led to joking about relationships in general, and joking about relationships led to serious talk about relationships, and that just brought up everything he was trying not to think about, and oops there he went doing it anyway.

Andy sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Deep breath in, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

(There was a number four emblazoned on the side of Axel's bag, he'd seen while they were walking, and fucking way to ruin his favorite number.)

"This fucking sucks. You wanna fucking fight?"

Not really.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Fighting Andy ranked real high on a list of Things That Were Normal, and that list was like 99% shit that he couldn't do right now. So if his choices were "sit here with his thoughts until he starts spiraling again and ends up crying like a fucking loser for the second time in one day" and "figure out what he could do without electricity or shelter or a guitar or weed that didn't actively make him think about death" he was gonna go with the second one. Still, like, something about fighting Andy right now felt real fucking morbid. Like a test run for not dying. But it was kinda hard to say no to Andy. Especially since apparently they were married now.

Axel pulled his glove back on and, after a moment of thought, took his knife out of his pocket and laid it on top of his things. Not that, like, he thought Andy might worry about him pulling it, Jesus fucking Christ he hoped he wasn't thinking about that, but honestly he just didn't trust shit to not go wrong today and probably if he moved wrong the knife was gonna pop open and stab him in the thigh and wouldn't that just fucking figure. Minithulu's Revenge. He stood, cracking his knuckles as he did. There was a decent-sized clearing here. This wasn't a bad place to do this. If they were gonna do this.

He turned to face Andy, and he thought about putting his hands up or whatever, but he kinda just didn't. He stared at Andy instead. His breathing already felt weirdly ragged considering they hadn't done anything. He remembered the last time he'd clocked him too hard and sent him falling back into a bookcase and he'd cut his lip and they both thought it was fucking hilarious at the time, cause it was pretty fucking hilarious, but now he was just thinking about Andy's blood and about Ms. Garcia's exploding out with bits of brain and bone all over the stage like a human fucking pinata and it didn't really feel funny anymore.

Axel shrugged.

"Hit me."

This was the kind of thing that should have been easy. They'd done this whole routine more times than even Andy could keep count of. It was the best way to let off steam, wailing on somebody who would give back as good as they got and not go crying to whoever if they got the worse part of it. Axel had always been a real bro in that sense.

The Axel standing there as Andy got to his feet was just... off. Obviously it was the same guy, same everything, right?

Wrong, apparently. The look on his face was all wrong, the way he was holding himself, everything.

Andy didn't want to think about it. He didn't know what he'd do if he had to think about it. So he did the only thing he could to avoid thinking about it: he hauled back and slugged Axel in the chest.

Axel didn't move.

Okay, yeah, he moved when Andy's fist crashed into his chest, kinda hard to stay still when a dude with fifty pounds on you comes at you at, well, definitely not full force or he'd be flat on his ass now but enough force, anyway. He stumbled back, stayed on his feet, absorbed the blow, a dull ache radiating through his chest that was kinda invigorating, kinda energizing, kinda helped, somehow. A familiar sort of pain, played out over dozens or hundreds of shitty amateur-ass brawls in backyards and bedrooms. So hey, if he was going for normal? The bruise blooming on his chest was real normal.

But Axel's bag wasn't laying in the hard hits, least not with Andy. Andy was too big for him to charge in guns blazing if he was gonna use a real on-the-nose metaphor. Andy was stronger, Axel was faster, and that first hit had been first boss basic attack levels of telegraphed and Axel could have just stepped right the fuck out of the way and he didn't. Because, what? He didn't want to think about it.

"That all you got?" His voice sounded weird. Flat. He flexed his fingers but they wouldn't form fists. His arms hung limply at his sides. Couldn't even let himself have this, huh? Whatever. Maybe it just didn't hurt enough yet.

Axel didn't come back at him like he was supposed to. Andy's instinct was to put his hands up, maybe bounce around a little that way that Ty always made fun of them for because blah blah I'm a trained boxer and whatever, and he expected Axel to do the same, but Axel just... didn't. He just stood there, flat and limp and dead-eyed, and shit, fuck, this wasn't supposed to be happening already. This wasn't supposed to be happening ever.

"You gonna just stand there and take it?" He wanted to taunt, to tease, but his voice came out weak and high-pitched. "Fucking hit me back, pussy."

Andy looked pretty normal. Weaving and shit. Maybe it was just him who was fucked up. Cept Andy's voice was wrong, too, just in the other direction. Yeah, he thought. Maybe I will. Just stand here and let you hit me until your face stops looking like that. Maybe that was what as really fucking him, up the stupid grin that wasn't on Andy's face. If he could smile at him and looked like he meant it he'd punch him right in his smug goddamn mouth but he wouldn't because he couldn't. Who could?

Where did that leave them? He wanted to be pissed but he couldn't focus his anger anywhere. Every time it bubbled up it just sunk back down again, oozed out through the soles of his shoes.

"Whatever, man," he said, still flat. Moved like he was on cruise control. Few steps forward, forced his fingers to clench. Didn't need anger for this, just needed some adrenaline. He tried to dig some fucking emotion out of his thick skull and used it to drive his fist into Andy's shoulder.

Andy didn't flinch. In fact, he barely moved, even with the momentum of Axel finally hitting him back. He swayed, and sure, it stung a little, but he didn't even really have to take a full step back.

"What the fuck was that?" He said, incredulity lending his voice some of the strength it had lacked a moment ago. You try to cheer a guy up, and this is what you got? Some wimpy little hit that barely qualified as a punch and Axel's dead-fish expression? Andy kind of wanted to be pissed. He couldn't really bring himself to get there, but at least he wanted it.

He slapped Axel's shoulder with the back of his hand in response. "The fuck? What's that feel like to you? That doesn't even count." He knew Axel could hit hard, or at least hit where it hurt; he'd done it plenty of times. Andy wasn't here for this dead man walking bullshit that they were apparently doing all of a sudden.

"Dude. Fuck you."

Axel's voice had gone from nothing to kinda offended which was an improvement all things considered. Like he was making a fucking effort here and Andy was real intent on being a dick about it. He felt something burning in his stomach. That was good. That felt good. He could roll with that.

"Ain't my fault you took it easy on me first. Thought I'd stay on your level." The slap stung. Axel gave him his own back.

"Fuck you. I'm going easy on you because you're being a giant baby."

And okay, he was a little pissed off now. He'd been constantly buzzing at some level of pissed off just in general this whole time, but now he had focus. Focus was good. Leave it to Axel to help Andy get his head on straight by bitching out.

Axel clapped back, sorta literally, and Andy slapped him again in response, this time with the other hand on the opposite shoulder. Keep things nice and even.